Page 13 of A Lick of Flame

No!

I can't let myself be swayed by his manipulations. I refuse to entertain the idea of going on some crazy mission with him. His words about me being tethered to the mind of a baby dragon seem like nothing but nonsense. How could a human and a dragon form such a bond? It's impossible, especially since I have no trace of magic within me. Not even a single drop.

I look at the fae. I really take him in, noting that his skin is pale and his breathing shallow, but I don’t care. I refuse! The realm will be a better place with one less beastfae in it. Besides, I doubt very much that he will die from his wound. I note his broad shoulders and muscled arms and thighs; he is powerful and will be fine.

His dragon, Delphine, steps into the light from my lantern. She comes in closer still; her eyes are firmly on her baby. She is beautiful, but terrifying to behold.

Kakara help me, but I hold my ground.

“Easy, Mama. Easy!” I tell the huge creature. Her scales are black like tar, with sprinkles of gold along her horns and ridges. They glint in the light of my lantern. Although I am afraid, I walk back to the whelp and get down on my knees before her. Her big, golden eyes blink at me. “You be a good girl, Raila,” I tell her, my throat thick with unshed tears. I trail a shaking hand along her scales, and she nuzzles her face into my neck. “I will miss you,” I say in a voice that breaks a little. I pick up the lantern.

She makes a chirping noise, and Delphine gives a low growl of warning. One I heed. I turn and walk away. The whelp cries out to me, but I set my shoulders and keep walking. If there is one thing I can agree on with the beastfae, it’s that it would be terrible if the baby fixated on me instead of her mother. I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a whelp. I think I would be in trouble with her mother. Courting trouble with the likes of Delphine would be silly indeed.

It takes a few beats to realize that I am crying. Hot, salty tears course down my cheeks, leaving wet trails in their wake. I quickly wipe them away with the back of my hand, berating myself for being so emotional. After all, I had only just met the little creature. She isn’t mine to feel this way about. She is wild and untamed. A creature of the sky and forest…certainly not of man. I glance over at the fae. A tether. I shake my head at the absurdity of such a notion.

It’s the fae. It’s all him; I am certain of it. Thankfully, he doesn’t know me or where I live. If I have anything to say about it, it will be the last time I’ll ever see him.

I retrace my steps through the winding tunnels of the dark cave, pulling my shawl closer around myself as I emerge into the crisp, open air. Dark rain clouds swirl ominously above me, and lightning crackles across the sky, illuminating the churning ocean below. I begin walking along the desolate beach at a brisk pace, determined to get back to the orphanage before dinner is over. I will already be sorely missed. I have been gone far too long. With night falling fast, the village is quiet, people holed up tight for the long night.

By the time I reach the cobbled road that leads to the orphanage, it is almost dark. Another crack of thunder sounds, and the skies open. My lantern sputters and goes out. I run the last few yards to the door that leads to the orphanage. You would never say by looking at the dilapidated building what lies behind the facade. From the outside, it is completely derelict, with broken windows and crumbling walls.

I touch my hand to the wooden door, feeling along the peeling paint until I find the lock. Then I fumble with the key, dropping it into the puddle forming at my feet. Swiftly, I bend and pick it up, pushing it into the lock, which clicks open.

Kakara be thanked.

The door opens into a dark passageway. I hurry inside, closing the door behind me, sealing myself into total darkness. All is well. I have lived at the orphanage for so long that I do not need to see, for I know it so well.

I lock the door behind me and then walk purposefully to the next door, which I also unlock. I put the key back in the tiny pocket in my dress, when the door is secure once again, then I walk out into the covered courtyard, which is unusually quiet and devoid of children.

God’s bones, but I am late. Very late. I rush inside. Just as I feared, dinner is already well underway. I hear the clinking of cutlery against crockery and the murmur of hushed voices.

Putting the lantern down on a nearby side table, I steel myself for the berating to come as I near the dinner hall. I’m just preparing to face Mother Trinity when Louisa walks out of the room. She is carrying an empty serving tray, and her eyes widen as they land on me.

“Where have you been?” she whispers. “We’ve been worried sick.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Where were you?”

“I…I…needed some time to myself.” It sounds wrong. It doesn’t sound like me at all.

I’m not surprised when Louisa frowns. “Some time?” She doesn’t sound like she believes me. “Time for what?”

“Yes, time. For, well…it…I…” I sputter, unable to come up with anything.

“Never mind. You’d better get in there.” She points at the door that leads to the dining hall.

I nod.

Mother Trinity glances up as I enter. I see her whole frame relax as she takes me in. The deep lines on her face seem less prominent. Her shoulders dip and I imagine I hear her sigh. I feel terrible for making her worry so.

“Teacher Maya!” one of the boys yells.

“Hi, Peter,” I say. “Good evening, children.”

They greet me back. “Hello, Sister.” There are a few giggles.

“Settle, children,” Mother Trinity says; her voice is old but true.

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